Not So Helpless
by Lunamaris321
Summary: Kyria is a maid in her own household, but she doesn't need, or want, any interfering fairy godmothers. She's going to change her life on her own, and she's going to start by going to the Royal Ball. For everyone who's sick of helpless maidens in distress.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fairytale, so please (as usual) tell me what you think. I guess I got sick of all the fairytales where the beautiful girl is in trouble – a servant, asleep, etc. – and the handsome prince comes to save her, or the fairy godmother, or whatever. So here's a story for all you people who want to read about girls who take control of their own life, with a bit of attitude stuck in for good measure. Kyria isn't the perfect little oppressed angel that Cinderella is. But that's the point.

**Not So Helpless**

**Chapter 1:** Wretchen, Geraldine, Maia, and the Witch (and, of course, me, Kyria) (and Thor, come to think of it)

"Kyria! Get over here!"

I cringed. Would they ever stop yelling? It was a wonder that Gretchen (or Wretchen, as I privately called her), Geraldine, and the Witch even had any voices. At least Maia didn't yell twenty-four-seven, even if she was a bit useless. It wasn't her fault. She'd been raised that way.

"KYRIA!"

"Okay, I'm coming," I called exasperatedly. What did they want this time? "Yes, my lady?" I curtsied slightly from Gretchen's bedroom doorway, my tone and gesture mocking. Gretchen didn't seem to pick up on it.

"This tea is cold. Bring me a cup of _warm_ tea with honey and milk. Not too much, though. Last time you almost made me sick." Gretchen said imperiously.

"Whatever you say." I picked up the tray, turned on my heel and stalked off, not waiting to curtsy like the Witch had told me to whenever I left the presence of her or one of her daughters.

"Insolent – insolent little sparrow!" Gretchen obviously thought she was insulting me.

"And you are a parrot. A foul-mouthed, bratty, parrot." I muttered under my breath.

"I HEARD THAT!"

I jumped on the banister and slid down to the kitchen, managing to land without spilling a drop of tea. Practice does that to a girl. "Oh, sure, just yell at me," I whispered bitterly. "You've never done a decent day's work in your life – actually, never done a day's work at all, let alone a decent on. But you can just sit there in your bed and have me wait on you, _my lady_. I'll have the last laugh when you shrivel up to the size of a prune while I run off and get married and live happily ever after." I looked down at my hands. "All right, so scratch the married and happily ever after part. Nobody'd want to marry me. I'm a seventeen-year-old servant. But at least I can watch you become a prune."

While the kettle was on the fire to boil I climbed out the window and began scaling the wall of the house. The only peaceful place in the house was on the roof, so that was where I spent all my free time. I took out my sketchbook, which was hidden in the chimney, and began to draw the landscape. It really was beautiful. I couldn't capture colors with a pencil, but the fog made everything blurry.

I was so focused I didn't even notice the rider coming out of the mist. "Ahoy! Up there!"

I jumped. "Yes, milord?" Blushing furiously to have been caught up on the roof, I hid my sketchbook and pencil and began climbing down to the ground.

The man looked me over, raising his eyebrow. My blush grew. I must look a sight: rumpled, covered with dirt from my climb, and (remembering with horror) Geraldine had dumped her tea on me earlier. There'd been no time to wash another dress, so I'd simply kept wearing the stained one. At least my hair looked slightly presentable.

"I am here to deliver an invitation to the royal ball. All eligible women of the house are invited, be they a servant or noble lady."

"Oh," I stuttered, completely thrown off guard. Just my luck. A royal ball invitation on the one day I look like a fool. All right, so maybe not the only day. "Thank you…"

"I am Sergeant Thorin." The man extended his hand, smiling. "And you are…?"

"Kyria, Sergeant Thorin. I am a… well, sort of a family member and sort of a servant to the Windlan household."

His smile faded slightly, as though he were nervous. "Windlan? Isn't your lord the one who committed suicide last year?"

I curtsied, a real one this time. "Yes, milord. He was my father."

It was Thor's turn to look embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." _Damn the Witch,_ I think furiously. _Damn her for killing my father and ruining a possible friendship with this nice man. Damn her for making my life a misery in my own household – the fief that should have been mine someday._

Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Thor suddenly looked concerned. "Is something wrong? Can I help?"

My heart melted and I lost my anger. Thorin looked to be only a few years older than me, and he looked as though he actually cared. "There's something wrong, but unfortunately there's nothing you can do. Nobody can."

"Well, if you change your mind, I'll be up at the palace. Most people know me, so just ask for Thor. I'll be there." He smiled, a genuine one again, and handed me a card. "Here's your invitation. Eligible ladies only, remember." His smile broadened. Then he turned, mounted his beautiful horse (I couldn't help but notice how well cared for she was), and galloped back into the mist.

She wasn't my mother, but I was both relieved and annoyed about the Witch's not being allowed to attend. On the one hand, she wouldn't be able to yell at me if I did find a way to get to the ball. On the other, it meant that she would be staying home to lock me up. And then I remembered – with my father's death the Witch was free again. She could marry.

Poor Father. My mother died when I was born, but he still loved me dearly. When I was five his mother persuaded him to remarry, and he chose a widow with two girls. I guess he thought that they would understand one another, and that the girls would be company for me. It's not his fault, but he was completely wrong. The Witch's previous husband had committed suicide as well, and her daughters were complete nightmares.

Gretchen was two years older, Geraldine my age. Their mother had spoiled them both rotten. Maia wasn't as bad – she was actually my half sister, and father had given her treatment that made her feel loved without spoiling her. Maia took after Father, which I suppose was why the Witch didn't like her as much as she did Wretchen and Geraldine. The result was that, while Maia didn't know how to do much, at nine years of age she wasn't nearly as cruel as my stepsisters, her half-sisters. Poor Maia. She was mostly ignored now that Father was gone. I didn't have the time to spend with her that I would've liked.

Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I went to go deliver the invitation to the Witch, remembering just in time to pull the kettle off the fire and bring up Wretchen's tea.

A/N: Okay, so not much has happened yet. There'll be more action later, I promise. Now review and I'll try to post the next chapter in the next couple of days. Who should Kyria fall in love with? I don't know if I'll have her fall for the Prince, his younger brother, Thor (I hadn't even thought of that until Kyria and Thor's conversation started writing itself. For those of you who've read Tamora Pierce's Protector of the Small quartet, Thor reminds me of Dom), or a new character like some duke or something so I need feedback. Thanks!

**Lunaterra**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So here's the second chapter. I don't know how much I like it, but I really really wanted to make Kyria yell at the Witch (whose name I still don't know). So she does. I honestly have no idea what's going to happen next. Thanks for reading, and please review!

**Not So Helpless**

Chapter 2

"A ball? We're invited to the Royal Ball?" Gretchen rushed into the Witch's room, where I was delivering the invitation. She had obviously only just gotten out of bed.

"Yes, we're invited to the Royal Ball." I said exasperatedly. I'd made that tea for Wretchen and now she wasn't even drinking it. To boot, I'd just explained about the ball to Geraldine, and before that, the Witch. It was getting annoying to have to keep repeating myself.

The Witch's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'we'? _You're_ not invited. They don't invite filthy little servant girls to Royal Balls."

I sighed. "I am, too, invited. Look at the invitation. 'All eligible maidens' includes me. I am not married or betrothed; therefore I am eligible. I am a maiden. And I am not a 'little' girl. If I am little, so is Geraldine, who, may I point out, is two months younger than me."

"You're still a servant girl," Geraldine said spitefully. I think my point hit home.

"By blood, I am the heir to Fief Windlan. You are of Carnor blood, not Windlan. Maia is both. I don't care what you say. I'm going to the Royal Ball. You can't stop me."

"Watch me." the Witch said maliciously.

"I don't have to wait on you," I pointed out. "I could run away. Make you hire a servant and actually _pay_ them. I don't have to mend your dresses and make your food and clean your manor – which is actually mine, but I'll get to that later – I don't have to do any of it."

"You can't leave. You have no living relatives. Nobody would take you in. I am only keeping you out of the kindness of my heart. Your father left the fief to me, not you." Though her words were still cruel, I could sense her slight panic. Nobody would work for her; she had a reputation for beating her servants. Gretchen and Geraldine watched, as though transfixed.

"I'm sure people would take me in. Plenty of nobles live at court, you know, and my title is actually Lady Kyria of Windlan. If I told the king how you treat your people, I expect he'd take action. I could have my fief, my home, and my people back within weeks. And you could live in the dungeon. It's only through the kindness of _my _heart that you live here. Not yours. Mine." My words were rash; I was speaking more from desperation than from actual knowledge. Yet I found myself believing them.

The Witch was white. She opened her mouth, and suddenly I found I didn't want to hear it. I reached forward, snatched the invitation out of her hand, grinned at her, and left the room.

**------------------------------------------------**

"Kyria?"

I looked down. There was Maia, sticking her little head out the window of the kitchen. "Yes, Maia?"

"Can I come up?" She sounded tentative, as though she were afraid I would yell.

I felt a pang of guilt. I'd said all that stuff to the Witch and not even thought about what would happen to Maia if I turned her mother in. "Sure, Maia. Here, I'll help you." I climbed down and showed her where the handholds were, then went up after her to make sure she didn't fall.

Maia took one look at the countryside – which was, admittedly, covered with mist – and said, "It's beautiful. I wish I could stay up here all the time."

"So do I," I admitted.

"And I don't even have people yelling at me all the time to bring them tea or clean their rooms or make dinner," Maia continued.

I winced. This nine-year-old girl was more perceptive than I'd given her credit for. "You're not a witch, though. In your mother's sense." I winced again. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said – "

"No, you're right, it's true. She's horrible. She taxes the commoners too heavily, then confiscates all they have when they can't pay. It's going to ruin Windlan, which is – as you said – _your_ fief."

"You heard all that?" I said apprehensively.

Maia nodded. "I'm quiet. I can slip in and listen to people. It's how I know about what Mother does to Windlan's people – she's always bragging about our wealth to Gretchen. And I go down to the village sometimes, when I think she won't catch me. The village people know me, and they don't care what I look like."

"You're quite pretty, you know. I honestly don't understand why she doesn't treat you like Wretchen - sorry, Gretchen - and Geraldine." Not strictly true, but I wasn't going to tell Maia that.

Maia laughed, I guess at the whole Wretchen/Gretchen thing. "I don't know either. But I mainly wanted to tell you that I'll help you get to the ball if you want to go. Between us I bet we can figure out a plan."

My breath caught in my chest. "You'd do that? For me? But what about you - don't you want to go? She'd let you."

"But I'm nine. I don't have a chance at marrying the prince. You do, so you should go. And anyway, I hate social functions. They're so boring. The food's good but that's it."

It was my turn to laugh. "Okay, thanks."

"KYRIA! GET DOWN HERE!"

I sighed. "And here I thought they'd forgotten me. Come on, we'd best get down there. It's nearly dinnertime."

"I'll help," Maia promised, scrambling awkwardly down the wall. I followed, jumping the last few feet to the ground and dusting off my skirt.

"Thanks. I was thinking of potatoes. How does that sound? We could do rolls for dessert or something."

A/N: What do you think? Thanks to Fiyero for reviewing the first chapter - I took your suggestion and changed the conversation between Thor and Kyria. I'll try to update within the next couple of days if I can. Otherwise, please review so I know what's good, bad, and horrible! Thanks!

**Lunaterra**


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